Still Frame
by hostilecrayon
Summary: A year spent in the land of the summons is a lifetime; a lifetime Edge missed out on. At Rydia's funeral, Edge remembers watching her grow old through the few short visits she paid him, and how he'd missed his chance. DEATHFIC.


Title: Still Frame

Author: hostilecrayon

Pairing: Edge/Rydia (Unrequited)

Warnings: Character death, angst

Disclaimer: FFIV belongs to Squaresoft, or more recently, Square Enix.

Notes: UGH. I don't know why this bunny bit me. It's such a terrible bunny, and it makes me sad. I apologize in advance. This takes place directly after FFIV – I didn't play the After Years, and as such, am completely ignoring its existence.

**Still Frame**

The last time he'd seen her, her hair had been completely white. There wasn't even a hint of the vivid color that had once fallen softly around her face; a face that now bore the wrinkles of a long life lived. Yet for Edge, it had been no more than a year. One long year of intermittent visits that brought an older and older Rydia before him.

And now, there would be no more visits. He would never see her again.

There was a large crowd; people shrouded in black, coming to pay their respects to one of the heroes who battled Zemus to save the world. Edge was one such hero, but it had been a while since he'd thought of himself so highly. These people were not his friends, and while part of him was happy to see so many come for Rydia, he wished they would go away. He did not want them here.

He tried to ignore them, his eyes glued to the casket as black as the magic of its owner.

A hand came down on his shoulder, but he didn't bother to look to see who it was.

"She lived her life to the fullest, even if we weren't there to see it," Cecil said softly. Edge chose not to reply.

He had seen it; the picture of her growth a collection of still frames of each time he saw her forever burned into his mind. The priest was saying something, but he was too lost in the past to hear it.

The first time she had come to see him after Cecil's wedding, it was little more than a month. He had barely begun the reconstruction of Eblan. Nothing had changed for him. He had barely settled in as the King; had only started to understand the scope of what his father had done for his country. But for her…

She was older. Different, somehow. There was a maturity to her that had only just started to bloom last he'd seen her. She had aged a good ten years in what was little more than overnight to Edge.

That was when he knew that all of the time he'd counted on to figure things out didn't exist. He should have told her then, but she had only stayed two days, and he was still too young to figure things out.

He was too young to be attending her funeral.

The next time she'd come, there were streaks of grey in her otherwise green hair. Her eyes had wrinkles at the corners; signs of a life of laughter. Somehow, she was more beautiful than ever to him. He knew then that he wanted her as his Queen.

It wasn't until the next time she came that he'd found the courage to drop the banter and actually ask her. But by then, most of her hair was white. She was old enough to be his grandmother, she'd told him fondly, and his heart broke into a million pieces.

She was going to die soon. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to him before. Or perhaps he'd just been avoiding thinking about it. Even if she stayed with him on the surface, she would die in twenty years or less. Returning to the land of the summons would mean that he may never see her again. He begged and he pleaded, but she had a wisdom far beyond the young woman he'd known only a few short months ago. She knew that for her, it had been much too long. Fifty years had gone by while Edge had been frozen in time. She would not – could not – stay with him.

She had returned only once more, mere days before her funeral. She never directly said why she had come, but Edge knew that she was saying goodbye. She had aged well, but it was clear that she was old beyond belief, her white hair mere wisps of the fullness it had been in her youth. She looked frail; the spirit that had always lurked just under the skin not more than a whisper.

She had hugged him much tighter than he'd thought possible for a woman of her apparent age. As he held her now delicate form, she said the words that he will never forget: "I never stopped thinking about you."

Three days later, she was dead.

As they lowered her casket into the ground, the cries of the summons could be heard, rolling across the land so powerfully, the ground shook in terror. As tears threatened to overflow, the sky darkened and an unnatural lightning flashed across the sky. Cecil's grip on his shoulder tightened.

A line formed as each person stepped up to say their final words and throw a handful of dirt into her grave. Edge just waited for them, never moving from his spot. Eventually, they would go, and only then would he say his own goodbyes.

Cecil didn't speak again, but he waited with him until he was ready. The cemetery was empty now, and Cecil went ahead of him, murmuring his own words before throwing in his handful of dirt. Then he walked away, giving Edge the distance he needed.

But what to say to someone who had changed him so much with so little time? It had barely been a year, but already he could not imagine what life would be like, unable to see her again. He held the dirt in the palm of his hand, squeezing it tightly as a million thoughts swirled in his head.

Finally, he pulled down his mask with his free hand, and spoke. "I will never stop loving you."

He threw in his handful of dirt.

Edge did many things in his life. He rebuilt Eblan and he ruled over his people fairly. He saw the others from time to time, and he worked tirelessly to make his kingdom the best that he could.

The history books refer to King Edward "Edge" Geraldine as one of the greatest kings to ever rule over the country Eblan. He is known as the king who saved the world and rebuilt Eblan, and also, as the only king to have never taken a wife.


End file.
